


It's About Power

by pusdowriting



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Military, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Betrayal, Dubious Morality, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Evil Plans, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Government, Graphic Description, Hero Worship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Military, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Bankruptcy, Past Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Rebellion, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pusdowriting/pseuds/pusdowriting
Summary: A story of ambition, politics, war and betrayal. This is an attempted rewrite of "Force Captain Who Would Be Queen" mostly because I was unhappy with the general quality of that story. This story is not actually set in Ancient Rome but is a rough retelling of the fall of the Roman Republic using She-Ra's character suite as well as a character study which will hopefully draw a fine line between loving and hating the central characters.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Kudos: 5





	1. Introductions Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This is an attempted rewrite of "Force Captain Who Would Be Queen" mostly because I was unhappy with the general quality of that story. This story is not actually set in Ancient Rome but is a rough retelling of the fall of the Roman Republic using She-Ra's character suite as well as a character study which will hopefully draw a fine line between loving and hating the central characters. A story of ambition, politics, war and betrayal.
> 
> I will be treating this fic as a kind of writing school so I invite harsh criticism from readers. If you take the time to share said criticism with me I will greatly appreciate it.

‘They couldn’t have chosen anyone better.’ The words reverberated around Adora’s head endlessly, like a hurricane consuming her thoughts. That simple sentence filled her entire being with equal parts dread and conviction as she began to make sense of the role that had been chosen for her. Entrusted to her. She felt as if she were walking with her destiny. That all her life had been but a series of trials preparing her for this moment and for the task ahead. The Protectorate, in its infinite wisdom, had chosen to give her one of its highest honours and one of its greatest callings. They had made her a Force Captain. She now had an army, a piece of land to rule and the full authority of the Horde at her disposal for as long as she held the badge. At this tremendous moment Adora fiddled and toyed with that symbol of her new position. As she flipped the object between her fingers, all the while making herself intimately familiar with its weight and shape, she found that she was hesitant to put it on. She knew that the second she did so she would be accepting a power and a responsibility unlike anything she had held before. But this was her task.  _ The task _ . The task she had been groomed for all her life.

‘They couldn’t have chosen anyone better.’ That’s what Shadow Weaver had said. That’s what the sorceress believed. It was now Adora’s duty to prove Shadow Weaver right. To earn the trust she had uniquely placed in her and the privileges that had come with that trust. Adora was suddenly filled with an overwhelming desire not to fail her mentor. The very thought of letting her down after all she had done for her was enough to upset the delicate balance between her apprehension and her conviction firmly in the latter’s behalf. 

Adora came from humble beginnings. That was a polite way to describe it. She had no family, she never knew her parents and she never had anything to her name. She was, in short, a nobody. One of the thousands of the poor and destitute without a home, possessions or a future. That was until Shadow Weaver. The sorceress had always had unhindered access to the orphanages of the Horde. From this vast pool she chose those which she considered to be of the most “superior breeding” and forced them through a rigorous training regime that turned those few chosen children into some of the Horde’s most effective killers. They were colloquially known as “Shadow Weaver’s monsters” and Adora was the greatest monster of them all. 

The Horde’s most revered sorceress was a hard woman by nature. Merciless and demanding. She did not give her praise over lightly. Nobody had ever been good enough for her. Nobody worthy of being her Protégé. She would often say as much to those very same children she trained in the hope of finding “the one”. That was until Adora. From all the orphans Shadow Weaver had ever trained she was the strongest, the fastest and the most ruthlessly ambitious. No amount of pain inflicted on her and no obstacle ever put in her path had ever stopped her from achieving anything she was asked to achieve. Her dedication, loyalty and above all her excellence in all fields, had won Shadow Weaver over. Unique among all her students Adora had somehow won the praise, the attention and the admiration of the sorceress.

As a result Shadow Weaver provided everything Adora could have ever asked or hoped for. The penniless orphan now had an apartment in the Fright Zone’s most affluent district. She had been given a generous allowance so that she could live comfortably without worrying about where her next meal would come from, but most importantly, Shadow Weaver had given her a future. It was a sad truth that a nobody had no reason for any ambition in life, she would always be a nobody. Shadow Weaver’s influence had bought her a chance to make a name for herself as Force Captain. If she was successful, if she returned home a triumphant conqueror, the world of Horde politics would be hers for the taking. She would earn the right to become a somebody. Someone with power, fame and wealth. Someone who commanded respect and would be remembered. Someone who could begin to repay the vast debts she had incurred to the sorceress that had made it all possible. 

Adora could see that future, her destiny, so clearly before her now. As if it were being reflected onto her in the sheen of her badge. It was a future that offered her everything she ever wanted and she knew all she had to do now was seize it. Having made the decision to do so, and knowing in her heart that she was never going to decline the offer, she stopped her fiddling and pinned the badge to the left shoulder pad of her red blazer. Her nerves cooled in response to the decision made and the badge’s weight now hung proudly and comfortably from her shoulders. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Adora resolved to make her way home and share the news. 

As she walked the cobblestone streets of the Fright Zone’s central distinct, its sprawling arteries covered in a thin layer of industrial soot and its walls crowded on all sides by tightly packed non-uniform housing, she noticed that the city’s residents had discovered a new modicum of respect for her. The sight of the badge caused some to dart out of her way at breakneck speeds to avoid causing her trouble while others chose to give her a small bow in respect for her status. The new found attentions were slightly embarrassing really and caused Adora to blush unbecomingly on more than one occasion. In truth she was not technically a Force Captain while she was still in the Fright Zone. She was merely a Force Captain in waiting. It was a legal issue. A Force Captain held in her possession all the powers of the state. In essence that meant that while on campaign, far away from the prying eyes of the Protectorate, the Force Captain was the Horde and his or her will was law. In the Fright Zone, however, the supreme power over the law and ultimately over life and death was held solely by the Protectorate and the Popular Assembly. Together those two bodies made up the government of the Horde and their monopoly on power was sacred. So sacred that there were a series of extremely strict rules, each punishable by death, that sought to enforce this monopoly both physically and ritually. One of those rules was that no Force Captain was ever allowed to enter the city, just like no soldier was ever allowed to enter the city and no weapons were allowed to enter the city. At least not without the direct and written permission of the Protectorate. In that way nobody could threaten or seek to challenge the government’s monopoly on power. That was simply the way of things. Adora would officially become a Force Captain in three days, so if she was not out of the city by then she would be in breach of the law. That wasn’t a problem though, she planned to be gone by morning.

There were only a few things to do before she left. Pack her belongings for her campaign, meet up with Shadow Weaver to say goodbye and choose her legates. Her second in commands. Each army required one and the Force Captain had the privilege of choosing a legate to lead each of the armies the Protectorate gave to them. In this instance the Protectorate had given her only two armies. Some Force Captain’s would have been upset with the comparatively small force though not Adora. She was grateful to have anything at all. Besides there were advantages to only having two armies, manoeuvrability being the most obvious one. There were less obvious advantages too. Personal advantages. Adora had made few friends in her life. In truth her life had been ill suited for friends in general. Yet there were, conveniently, two women she trusted more than anyone else to take up arms and join her on the battlefields. Catra and Huntara. Huntara was a soldier by trade and a neighbour of hers in the Fright Zone. They had met two years ago during Lonnie’s Triumph. 

The Triumph was a parade unlike any other event in the Fright Zone. It was the sole exception to the rule that forbade Force Captains, soldiers and weapons from crossing into the city walls and was given as a reward to those who fought successful campaigns to expand the borders of the Horde. During the festival, paid for by the spoils of war, the Force Captain and their soldiers hosted a city wide party that lasted days and made celebrities out of the returning heroes. It was usual for Force Captains to use these parades to make themselves known to the public and then to use that newly won popularity and fame to launch themselves into politics during the upcoming elections. Huntara had been one of the soldiers who fought in Lonnie’s campaign against a rebellion in the Crimson Wastes and made herself somewhat famous by taking command of a battalion during the fighting and successfully defeating a rebel army that was twice their size. For whatever reason though, Lonnie took a disliking to her and had spitefully refused to promote her to a position of command. Instead, Huntara received only a soldier’s wages for her efforts and was dismissed from the army by the Force Captain. A decision which proved to be a major stumbling block in her military career. 

Understandably, Adora was both impressed by her skill with command and sympathetic to her being so slighted. The two women got to know each other more intimately over the years as they chose to train together frequently. Both of them had quickly become thoroughly impressed by the other’s strength, stamina and general resilience and both had become eager to serve together. Huntara was both a smart choice for a legate strategically and a close personal friend that Adora could potentially use politically down the line. Besides, Adora was happy to help Huntara’s career get back on track as a matter of principle. She didn’t deserve to be dismissed. 

Catra was her other choice and Adora’s reasons for choosing her were far more personal and far more familial. Catra was another one of Shadow Weaver’s acolytes and unlike Adora she had ultimately failed to impress the sorceress. Though not for lack of effort. Most of the “failures” that came out of Shadow Weaver’s training programs nevertheless went onto army careers anyway but to Adora the thought of losing Catra to some backwater hellhole had been a daunting prospect. When you have no family you latch onto people around you and in truth there had only been two people in her whole life that had always been there to latch onto. Shadow Weaver and Catra. Carta was many things to Adora. A best friend, a sister and a comrade. The only person in the world that truly understood her and in turn Adora felt pride in knowing that she was the only person in the world that truly understood Catra. No one understood why their bond was so unshakable, least of all Shadow Weaver who had often encouraged Adora to simply cast her aside as if she were little more than dead weight. A hindrance to her progress. When Shadow Weaver was ready to abandon Catra in the war office recruitment rooms, Adora had stepped up and asked Catra to live with her instead. 

Since then and until now, life had stagnated. Catra had trouble finding any employment because she was trained as a killer and was good for little else. Being one of the sorceress’ monsters also meant one was more often feared more than revered. Catra had therefore been living off Adora's allowance for the past three years. Adora was of course happy to share, in her eyes, having Catra around was more than worth the extra expense. But Catra had become more and more upset with the whole arrangement as time dragged on and her being upset made Adora upset. Catra had clearly been letting her dependency get to her and that simply won’t do. Luckily, that was all about to change. Adora had a plan for herself. A plan admittedly drafted in large part by Shadow Weaver but still a plan. As she used her new command and her mentors' influence to climb the ranks of society, Adora had every intention to drag Catra up with her. No matter what Shadow Weaver thought, no matter what Catra thought, she deserved a future just as much as Adora did. Giving her the position of legate would be the first step in ensuring that Carta got that future. It also had the intended benefit of keeping the magicat by her side. Where she belonged. 

\---

As Glimmer stood at the edge of the Whispering Woods in the early hours of the morning she felt the early winter’s icy breeze lapping mercilessly at her exposed flesh. The chilled air of the snow showered meadows dulled her senses, numbing her limbs and periodically sending shivers down her spine and daggers up her nose. The crisp winds, purified by the deathly cold, carried no smell save for the slightest hints of rot that came whenever the wind blew westwards from within the wood’s shadowy depths. As she waited on the edge of that wayward forest the only pleasure to be had was in the sweet, warming respite from the cold that could be achieved by rubbing her hands vigorously against her neck and shoulders. Though even this small act of self-indulgence was too fleeting to provide real comfort. As her limbs grew tired from the constant effort she sought other ways of distracting herself from the cold. As her eyes returned to the woods she began to contemplate them anew. It struck her that looking at the Whispering Woods was very much like observing the edge of civilisation. It’s corrupting, chaotic influence was clearly visible as the vegetation grew wilder and the horizon darker with every step into its mysterious depths. This was where nature’s chaotic influence reigned supreme over the carefully tended gardens and well trimmed hedges of the civilised kingdoms. According to tradition they were an impassable barrier. Eventually any traveler in the woods would be consumed by its malevolent influence, turned in circles and mauled by the beasts within. This wasn’t strictly true though. 

Those were the common fairy stories mother’s told their daughters in places like Brightmoon to scare them from wandering too far from the safety of their homes. From the safe vantage point of their wealthy, stable and comparatively pleasant kingdoms, the woods were a natural symbol of the other. The strange, the weird, the wonderful and the dangerous. In truth there were many people who routinely braved the woods. People who knew them intimately, lived in them or else used them as a shield to hide their activities from unwanted attention. Glimmer was meeting just such a person now. A young man who she had known from the tender age of five. A young man that grew up with her in the courtyards of Brightmoon’s royal palace. Her dearest and best friend. Bow. He was returning from a mission. A mission which had lasted a grueling six months. Incidentally those six months had constituted the longest period of time that the two of them had ever been apart and the lack of contact with each other had been deeply painful for the young princess. 

Bow had been such a constant presence in her life for as long as she could remember that being without him felt almost like being without a part of herself. She was a different person when she was with him. Relaxed, confident, funny and happy. His presence inspired a version of Glimmer that the young girl enjoyed being. A version of herself that had been caged up for months on end to the detriment of her overall health. She was determined to save that version of herself now. To have Bow rescue her from whatever depths in her soul she had been confined to and let her breathe again. Glimmer lamented adulthood and the inevitable cruelty with which it had called on them both and had pulled them in separate directions. Bow was one of the many unfortunates whose home lay east of the Whispering Woods and was therefore at the mercy of the Horde. 

Once upon a time, when there was peace, the Princess Alliance ruled all of Etheria. With a few exceptions the planet was made up by a confederacy of inter-reliant kingdoms, each ruled by a magically endowed female monarch who acted as a guardian of the planet's natural magic. The greatest of these kingdoms, according again to tradition, was Brightmoon. It was for this reason that the other monarchs of Etheria respectively took on the lesser title of Princess while the ruler of Brightmoon was a Queen. As the capital of the planet and the centre of the Alliance, Brightmoon was where all the monarchs of the world were hosted when decisions needed to be made and agreements forged. The duty of the Brightmoon monarch was therefore hostess to the planet and it was this duty that Glimmer’s mother took extremely seriously. Etiquette training had begun in earnest once Glimmer had finished traditional education and it had totally monopolised her time. Training for her future duties as Queen took precedence over everything else in her life and if she was honest it was taking precedence over the things that actually mattered. Things like the Horde.

To Glimmer, Bow’s cause was the truer one. The nobler one. His home and the homes of many others who had the misfortune of being on the other side of the Whispering Woods’ protective borders were suffering under the relentless pressure of a hostile, expanding and ruthless empire known to its adversaries as the Evil Horde and so, naturally, Bow wanted to joined the fight against them. The Horde was the living antithesis to everything the Princess Alliance stood for. Where the Princess Alliance preached harmony with nature and the planet’s magic the Horde worshiped an “endless march of progress” to exploit and industrialise the planet. Where the Alliance stood for peaceful coexistence between autonomous and diverse communities, the Horde demanded uniformity, centralisation and an aggressive assimilation of all the peoples under its ever expanding rule. Where the Princess Alliance stood for tradition, culture and monarchy the Horde worshiped their state and a materialist philosophy that held power above all else. Above common kindness and above beauty. In short the Horde was an abhorrent, ugly thing. Something which needed to be stood down and defeated for the sake of goodness and decency. 

That was surely the cause of all free people’s of Etheria. Armed defiance and rebellion against the Horde was the just and noble calling of their times. Unfortunately this was not a view readily shared by her peers. The security provided by the Whispering Woods convinced many on this side of them that the war against the kingdoms of the east was an eastern problem. An issue that they sympathised with but not one they were willing to fight and die for in order to resolve. As the nominal leaders of the planet, Glimmer had argued repeatedly that it was Brightmoon’s duty to intervene and lead the Alliance against the aggressors. Arguments that invariably fell on deaf ears. As it turned out, the Alliance's noble commitment to the facilitation of coexistence between autonomous and diverse communities came with certain intrinsic weaknesses that were not shared by the Horde. It meant that Brightmoon had no real power beyond her borders except the respect it could occasionally command in order to build a consensus for action. That respect had not been strong enough to convince the Kingdom of Snows, Salinas or Mystacore, in short the western kingdoms, to take up arms to defend the eastern kingdoms. Without their support her mother refused to act and so the princesses of the eastern kingdoms were left to their fates.

Eventually the eastern princesses stopped participating in the Alliance all together. Either because they were destroyed by the Horde or because they had instead turned to each other and the emergent rebellion for help and assistance. Those who did the latter were right to do so, at least in Glimmer’s eyes. The Princess Alliance had betrayed them and they owed nothing to Brightmoon as far as she was concerned. 

Of course this scandalous betrayal was made all the more tragic by the fact that the rebellion was so clearly losing its fight. The Horde never suffered a defeat they weren’t able to shrug off in a year. They conquered the Black Garnet Kingdom, Dryl, the Star Valleys and Halfmoon and were finishing off a campaign against the Kingdom of Andreenid. The news that Princess Sweetbee had signed a peace of unconditional surrender with the Horde had been particularly devastating to Glimmer as Andreenid was where Bow had been fighting the last six months. While Glimmer trained to be the powerless Queen of a planet in the grip of a war she was forbidden to participate in, Bow had been fighting the good fight. Helping Sweetbee defend her kingdom from the evil Horde. Ultimately to no avail. Andreenid fell like all the others. 

Bow had called her with the news two weeks ago that he was going to be repositioned to Elberon, one of the supply depots in the middle of the Whispering Woods where the rebellion was based, as a result of the defeat. The rebellion had received intelligence that another of the Horde’s dreaded Force Captains was eager to make her mark in the annals of history by invading and conquering the Kingdom of Thaymor. It was apparently all going down soon so Bow wanted to have a quick catchup before he was sent on another tour of duty. This time for likely over a year. Glimmer had already barely suffered through six months of not knowing where he was. Not being able to talk with him. Not even knowing if he was alive or dead. She couldn't do that again and she did not intend to. Their meeting would not be a brief catch up. Before she left Brightmoon, in the quiet hours of the previous night, she wrote a letter to her mother explaining what she planned to do. Glimmer was going to join the rebellion and take the active stand against the Horde that her mother wouldn’t. She would stand up for what she believed in. Brightmoon may have decided to abandon the people of Thaymor to their fates but its princess had not. 


	2. Introductions Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra and the Sword's Introduction

Catra woke up late in the morning to find that Adora had already left. She observed, from her usual reclined position, that her bed was empty and that its sheets had been thrown unceremoniously to the floor. Still on the precipice of sleep her mind, dulled as it was by last night's lingering fog, began to remember the reason for Adora’s haste. It promised to be a big day for her. For both of them. The day she would become a Force Captain.

Adora, being the worrywart she was, spent much of last night showing all the classic symptoms of stress, making only halfhearted attempts to cover up her anxieties. She had paced the rooms of their apartment like a caged panther, refused to eat anything at all during dinner and had uncharacteristically insisted on trying to do all the cleaning-up herself. Another task she did halfheartedly. Ultimately she even had trouble getting to sleep. Now, assuming she had gotten any sleep at all, Adora had chosen to rush out the door at first light without so much as a goodbye. Though that last point wasn’t anything too unusual for her. Adora was generally early to rise. 

The desire for an early start to the day was one of those odd Adoraisms that Catra was quite sure she would never understand. It was one of life’s great joys to simply lay in a soft bed and rest away the early hours of the morning without a care in the world. To make an active choice to wake yourself up and rush ahead onto the day’s various monotonies was surely a symptom of insanity. After all, what did the day have to offer someone like her? It was one of the many things that were different about the two of them. _Maybe it was one of the many reasons people liked Adora more than her._

Suddenly, the first negative thought of the day had sprung into her head. Earlier than usual this time. The effect of it was not unlike having a bucket of cold water thrown at you. Catra’s mind was suddenly and mercilessly dragged from the calming ecstasy of her warm, half-sleeping state and thrown into the harsh world of the fully conscious. She found herself forced into an upright position as her right hand moved swiftly to claw at the fabric of her nightgown just over her heart. The adrenaline now pumping in her veins sent cold shivers through her body and made her painfully aware of her own heartbeat. All the while her fur had begun standing on edge as her skin stretched into a hyper-sensitive gooseflesh. Eager to push past this affliction she focused on her breathing. Finding it slightly too heavily, she fought to regain self-control. She had dealt with episodes like this before and had become well practised in how to deal with them.

Within a few minutes, Catra’s breathing was at an acceptable level and her body began to relax. She was wholly awake now with no chance of falling back to sleep and so would need to find a way to busy herself while Adora was gone. _It’s not like she had anything important to do or anywhere to be like Adora_. Her inner monologue bitterly recounted. That was negative thought number two. She shook that one off with greater ease than the first and ultimately decided upon distracting herself with the chores. Catra found that having something to do was usually a good defence against whatever her mind would otherwise subject her to. And to be fair, there were a lot of chores.

The house was a mess. Half-cleaned dishes in the sink, Adora’s bedclothes scattered in heaps on the floor and the kitchen tiles had only been partially wiped down last night during Adora’s brief and undisciplined cleaning frenzy. The contrast between the whiter areas she got round to and the areas she didn’t somehow made the place look more filthy. As a rule, Catra had done most of the cleaning and the cooking since they decided to move in together. Or rather, when Adora decided to allow Catra to live with her. Catra was so grateful that she insisted on at least trying to be useful to Adora in exchange. Pull her weight. Shadow Weaver had, of course, wanted to throw her on the streets to fend for herself. It was only Adora’s kindness that had saved her from that fate. It was a good thing too as Catra had proved that she was all but incapable of looking after herself these last few years. It seemed all she was good for was the cooking and cleaning. She didn’t even cook that well if she was honest. Adora would probably be better off hiring some maid from downtown. _It’d be cheaper than housing her_. Negative thought number three, it seemed she was on a role. 

On top of the cleaning, there was another chore that needed to be done. Packing. Adora had annoyingly insisted on not beginning to pack for their campaigning season before today. Even though it promised to be a gigantic pack, they were expected to be on service for a year after all, and they only had a few days after she got the job to get out of the city. In her silly Adora way, she had insisted that she hadn’t got the job yet and that packing was premature. Catra was mostly convinced that Adora just found the thought of unpacking in the event she didn’t get the job depressing. Adora didn’t take rejection well and despite all evidence to the contrary, she lacked faith in her abilities. Catra on the other hand was under no such illusions. Adora was perfect and she always got what she deserved. She was the best of the best, Shadow Weaver always said so. Everybody always said so. “Why can’t you be more like her”, they would say. The Protectorate would be foolish not to give her the job and, working under the assumption that the Protectorate wasn’t foolish, Catra thought it would be best to begin packing immediately. Now that Adora was gone that’s exactly what she planned to do. 

As Catra got on with the task of grabbing, categorising and arranging every item of clothing they owned from the various cupboards and wardrobes in the house, she quickly found that she was running out of space. As a result, she chose to temporarily lay their clothes across every surface of the living room. Dangling the many replicas of Adora’s usual get up, a white form-fitting workout shirt with a red blazer and dark brown-grey pants, from various pieces of furniture. As time waned on Catra she became increasingly frustrated with the slow pace of her progress and so opted to simply take the soak cupboard from its hinges and empty its contents onto the floor by simply flipping the thing upside down. 

Soaks were, in general, relatively cheap things that could be sourced from anywhere yet things were a little bit tricker in her case. _Most things were_ . How many negative thoughts was that now? In any case, her claws were razor-sharp and would easily destroy any traditional soak or glove that was not tailor-made for her usage. Usually, she went barefoot to avoid the trouble. When she was young though, and the nights in Shadow Weaver’s icy barracks became too much for her, she would simply use whatever soaks they were given, despite the inevitability of her claws ripping holes in them, in a futile attempt to stave off the cold. Those soaks were usually thin things, itchy and barely warming enough for the effort. The soaks she was packing away now were different. They were a present from Adora, some of the only presents she had ever received in her life. They were not itchy, they were thick and warm for the coldest nights of the year and the fabric, whatever it was, didn’t tear under the onslaught of her claws. She was pretty attached to them, oddly so. _Pathetically so_. In any case, she wanted to have them with her on their adventure. Besides, it might get chilly wherever they ultimately chose to send Adora. She may need them. 

Just as she was beginning to slot them into an empty corner of their carry bag the doorbell rang. Was Adora back already? How long did she sleep in? Catra picked herself up from the floor and carefully darted over the clothing items strewn across her path to find herself at the door. The sight that met her when she opened it caused her heart to skip a beat and elicited an embarrassing audible yelp from her throat. It was a source of endless humiliation how much the sorceress’ presence unsettled the young woman. The fact that the very sight of her was enough to turn Catra’s legs to jello was a source of deep shame for the magicat and one she was quite eager to hide from Shadow Weaver if possible. If only to save a shred of her dignity. Or else to prove that she had such a thing in the first place. As Catra took the time to compose herself a long silence filled the space between them, the sorceress no doubt waiting to be addressed. Shadow Weaver ultimately decided against going through such formalities to get to the point of her arrival. Which of course was Adora. It was always Adora.

‘Hasn’t she returned home yet? I want to meet with her before she leaves.’ Shadow Weaver said matter-of-factly. Catra took to rubbing her left foot on her right ankle to distract herself from her nerves. She sometimes had fantasies about how she would act in Shadow Weaver’s presence now that she was an adult. Fantasies about being tall, standing up for herself and simply not allowing the witch to boss her around anymore. Ultimately though, in the moment, she decided to be as non-confrontational as possible. Whether out of fear, pragmatism or some mixture of both, she couldn’t say. 

‘No, she’s still out.’ She replied quickly, in a familiar submissive monotone. Then there was another pause. An expecting, lingering pause made all the worse by the way the sorceress’ mask hid her reaction from view. ‘I was just packing our bags…’ Catra began to fill the silence with an explanation but was cut short. 

‘Packing? Is that what you call this mess?’ Shadow Weaver hissed as a long, withered and bony finger lifted ominously from her side to point into the room behind her. Even before Catra could turn around to see what the sorceress was gesturing to she knew what was meant. This was a very bad time for Shadow Weaver to drop in. Clothes seemingly thrown onto every surface. Socks dumped on the floor. The dishes were still in the sink. The bedclothes were unwashed. As Catra went stiff, preparing for a tirade, she lamented not getting up earlier that morning. For not foreseeing the event of Shadow Weaver’s surprise visit and making sure the place was spotless for her arrival. 

‘I, I, I…’ Catra mumbled pathetically. Unable to verbally construct a defence. Adora didn’t want to start packing until that morning. Adora didn’t allow her to do the cleaning up last night, instead trying frantically to do it herself between her stress-induced pacing. It didn’t always look like this. None of that mattered though. She couldn’t blame Adora or even be seen in any way to suggest it was Adora’s fault. That wouldn’t go down well. 

‘You pathetic little creature. I thought that even an ungrateful little stray like you would have the decency to ensure that your so-called friend didn’t have to live in a pig-sty. I thought that’s why she kept you around. Instead, you choose to subject her to your filth while sponging off my money. I should have dealt with you long ago.’ She spat. Her anger caused the room around them to darken and the black, shadowy tentacles that followed her around to thrash wildly in all directions. As Catra began to cower a little the sorceress calmed down turning away from the door while holding her head in one hand. 

‘Just tell her to find me in the sanctum before nightfall.’ She demanded.

\---

As Glimmer attempted to negotiate her way around the unruly foliage of the wood’s damp forest floor she found that she was falling further and further behind. Bow by contrast never seemed to miss a beat. He was obviously well practiced in navigating the spindly, erratic jungle causing him to race ahead with irritating grace. Every foot he placed down miraculously, as if by magic, found its way to solid ground. Never once getting caught in the maze of roots, laid like tripwires by the twisted trees at their feet.

‘Bow wait up.’ She called out after tripping for the hundredth time. Her cry caused the boy to lift his head from the tablet he brought with him and had been studying intently for the past half hour. ‘I don’t want to get lost here.’ Glimmer admitted as she awkwardly fumbled her way towards him. As she closed the distance between them, with all the grace on a rampaging bull Bow let his tablet fall to his side as he watched her. When she was once again at his side he wrapped his arms around her in a loose but strong embrace. 

‘You won’t get lost here with me around don’t worry. We’re close anyway.’ He assured her before his attention once again fell to his tablet. The screen only intermittently showed its contents through thick waves of static interference. Glimmer took the small respite as a chance to scour the treeline for any sign of life. She was looking for a hut, a few houses, maybe a road. Anything that screamed “rebel base” but found nothing. At least that’s what she thought initially. As Bow became more and more frustrated with his contraption, choosing to hit it in a futile attempt to convince the screen to get a connection, she saw a faint glow in the distance. To her mind it was too concentrated to be a bioluminescent fungus or any other such thing that glows naturally in the wood. It was artificial. Glimmer pulled at Bow’s shirt, temporarily distracting Bow from his defective datapad. 

‘Yes?’ Bow asked, his left eye brow lifting in curiosity. Glimmer pointed wordlessly toward the light in the distance, causing Bow’s eyes to follow her direction. 

‘Is that what we're looking for?’ She asked, pride seeping into her voice as she waited for his approval. Bow however, didn’t speak. When Glimmer checked to see what was wrong she saw a contemplative frown on his face. 

‘What is that?’ He asked, almost to himself. Glimmer had assumed it was the camp but Bow would have recognised it if that were the case. Soon Bow had resolved to get a close look and began to walk towards it. Glimmer, thoroughly done with navigating the unruly forest floor, decided to simply latch on to Bow and make short work of the journey by teleporting them both into the far off clearing where the light was emanating from. Bow let out a small yelp at the suddenness of the thing before turning back to Glimmer with a disapproving frown. 

‘You shouldn’t waste your teleports like that!’ He exclaimed. ‘It could be a long time before you're able to recharge again.’ He continued his chastisement. Glimmer wasn’t in the mood and so mouthed a quick apology under her breath before turning their attentions to the glowing object in the middle of the field. Bow’s incoming lecture died on his lips as the two studied the object they saw before them. At first glance it was a large broadsword. It sported a golden hilt, a single large gem in its center and a bright, shining blade as if made from silver. Except that, on closer inspection, the metal was clearly not silver. It was not merely shiny but glowed with some unnatural internal light. The blade itself was carved with a series of runes made up of strange line patterns and circular formations. Both of the rebels recognised the writing instantly. It was “first ones’”. A mysterious people lost to history, who left behind nothing but a few powerful magical items and technological artefacts which they seemingly scattered across their homework. 

There were lots of stories about the “first ones” and their tech though most were undoubtedly simple fairy tales. Yet there was always some truth to stories and the first truth that was plainly obvious to Glimmer was an old saying in Brightmoon. “Nothing the first one’s ever built was what it appeared to be.” 

‘That’s not a sword.’ She cautioned Bow as he moved toward it. 

‘No it isn’t.’ He agreed without question. Still he reached his hand to it, hesitating only slightly before he grabbed the hilt. When it failed to react to his touch Bow lifted the sword from where it had been stabbed into the rock causing the sword to instantly cease glowing as if it were deactivating. Whatever it was doing before, it had seemingly stopped doing it. Bow then looked at his datapad once more, finding the interference had gone. 

‘Whatever it was, it was drawing us off track and interfering with my navigation. As if it were...luring us here.’ Bow reasoned. His eyes looking at the sword anew and with great suspicion in his eyes. Glimmer, thoroughly creeped out, nevertheless moved to take the sword from him so that Bow could focus on getting them back on track. But when she took the sword into her own hand it lit up once more though much more violently than before. Glimmer gave a shriek but before the breath had even left her lungs the sword had finished its transformation. It had become a ring with a large purple-pink gem in its center and had firmly placed itself on Glimmer’s middle finger. Glimmer imminently made an attempt to take it off but the now ring seemed to have other plans. Panicking, she began to teleport. Again, and again, and again. Each time trying to leave the ring behind as she moved and each time failing as the ring reacted to her use of magic and clung onto her anyway. 

Bow screamed on the sidelines for her to stop but it took a while for her to listen in her panicked state. When she did finally stop she nevertheless made a final, last-ditch attempt to shake off the ring by failing her hand up and down radically before reluctantly ceasing her efforts to allow Bow to take a look at it. He tried to pull at it himself for a moment but it wouldn’t budge for anything. Eventually Bow gave up and sighed, choosing instead to contemplate their next move.

‘How many times did you teleport?’ He finally asked with clear disappointment in his voice. Glimmer suddenly felt a chill run down her back. What had she done? She must have teleported twenty times at least. She would almost be out of magic before she had even been in her first skirmish. Yet before she could really start to kick herself for her idiotic actions she noticed something peculiar. She still felt fully in-tune with her magic as if she hadn’t teleported at all. Shocked at first her eyes immediately fell on the ring and she felt it immediately. There was a power emanating from the object and into her body that was constantly replenishing her magic. A grin came to her face at the realisation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pleased with the writing quality with this one but I would be interested to know if this had engaged the reader throughly enough.


	3. Catraline Conspiracy Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon...

I meant to start this parody later in the Caesarean story but I've back-pedalled. I'll work it in though.

**Author's Note:**

> I have tried to walk a line between exposition, setting up characters and engaging descriptive language. How well did I do? Were you immersed? Was there too much of one thing and not enough of another for your tastes? I invite you to be brutal. Tell me what I did wrong and how I can improve.


End file.
